


a compromising position

by elmshore



Series: home is your heartbeat [2]
Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, Trapped In A Closet, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmshore/pseuds/elmshore
Summary: While out on a supply run, Abby and Esme are forced to hide in a closet to avoid a passing horde of infected. To pass the time, Esme decides to have a little fun.
Relationships: Abby Anderson/Original Female Character, Abby/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Abby Anderson
Series: home is your heartbeat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871479
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	a compromising position

If she’d been told this morning that her supply run would end with her being crammed into a tiny ass closet with her girlfriend, Abby’s pretty sure she would have laughed at the idea.

Well, she’s sure as hell not laughing now.

An elbow slams into her stomach and she lets out a quiet  _ oof _ , a murmured apology following mere seconds later. Inches ahead of her, Esme continues to wriggle about — attempting, no doubt, to find a more comfortable position — and it takes every last ounce of willpower Abby has left to keep from just grabbing the woman and forcing her still.

She’s not exactly cozy in here either.

The closet they’re currently packed into  _ might  _ have, once upon a time, been able to accommodate two people, but those days are long gone. Now, it’s filled to the brim with piles and piles of absolute junk.

Boxes make up the bulk of the mess, but other assorted items — many of which Abby had zero time to see properly, as they scrambled inside and slammed the door shut — are also strewn about, adding to the clutter and taking up precious space. She wonders, briefly, if the disarray is the fault of the previous owners of the home or if, instead, it’s a result of other people using the place as a temporary shelter over the years.

She’ll never know for sure and so, she curses all of them in one go — for good measure.

All things considered, it’s not the most ideal of hiding spots, but when the only other option is being left out in the open to deal with a passing horde of infected, well, it’s better than nothing.

And at least they have a little light — her flashlight sits atop a stack of boxes, allowing them to see, which isn’t exactly useful but every little bit helps, right?

Esme shifts again and when one of her feet lands on top of Abby’s, the blonde bites her lip to keep from swearing, hissing softly.

“Fuck, sorry!”

“Stop moving around!”

“I can’t! There’s something poking me right in the boob and it’s driving me crazy.”

Abby sighs, closes her eyes, and counts to ten. Remembers how it’s something her dad used to do, on the rare occasion she’d see him get frustrated, and while it’s never been a full-proof solution for her, it works well enough most of the time. Done, and with a little less annoyance than before, she reaches out and takes hold of Esme’s shoulders, gripping them tight to make sure the other can’t go back to squirming around.

“Just, hold on,” she sighs and, able to feel a bit of empty space behind her, takes a small step backwards. Then another and finally one more, bumping up against the wall, pressing herself flat against it. 

Satisfied, she brings Esme toward her — turns her around in the process, just to be sure — and is happy to see the other following along with no protests. Gives the other a little smile, hands still resting on her shoulders.

“Better?”

“Much, thanks.”

“Of course.”

“And uh, sorry, you know, about your foot,” a pause and then, sheepishly, “and the elbow, too.”

“It’s fine, don’t — ”

Her words skid to a halt as a loud crash echoes from the nearby living room, almost deafening in the silence of the home, and immediately, she feels fingers latch onto her shirt, holding on tight. Esme tugs herself closer, body tense and shaking.

Instincts override shock, the need to protect outweighing her own fear, and instantly her focus is on her girlfriend. Moves her hands down, from shoulders to elbow, and back up again, keeping the motions firm yet gentle. A grounding rhythm, one to keep Esme in the moment.

“Hey,” she whispers, ducks her head, and plants a kiss on Esme’s forehead. Lets it linger before she pulls back and adds, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Esme is silent — a rarity from her, to be sure — and only nods in response. A bit of the tension begins to fade from her and the fingers still bunched into Abby’s shirt relent, though they don’t seem ready to let go just yet. In return, Abby continues her motions, rubbing the other’s arms up and down, slow and steady.

“I’m sorry,” Esme says, softly, and she can’t help but smile.

“Don’t be, there’s no need.”

And there isn’t.

She knows that spending her whole life within the confines of Catalina Island has left her girlfriend with very little hands-on experience when it comes to the infected. Oh, sure, she knows  _ of _ them — can recognize the different stages and such — but she’s hardly dealt with them directly and so Abby understands. Is maybe even a little envious, if she’s being honest, but not angry.

Never angry.

Another crash, this one followed by a shrill screech Abby identifies right away as belonging to a Clicker, and she hears Esme’s breath hitch, body going stiff once more.

Frowning, she lowers her arms and wraps them around the other’s waist, rocking them gently from side to side. “They don’t know we’re here,” she says, low as she can manage, and then, “we’re safe. They’ll move on and we can get out of here.”

At least, that’s what she  _ hopes _ will happen.

This isn’t her first time dealing with a horde — she’s seen more than her fair share of them, between her time with the WLF and later, while traveling with Lev — and she knows that these things can often go one of two ways.

If you’re lucky, the group stays in motion, and are out as quickly as they rolled in. If you’re not lucky, well, you either get real comfortable or you try to fight your way out. Abby prays, to whomever or whatever might be listening, that it’ll be the former and not the latter. Esme’s pretty good with a bat, but she’d rather  _ avoid _ placing the woman in direct combat if she can help it.

That didn’t turn out so well the last time it happened.

The hands holding her shirt let go and drop, settling at her sides, curling in tightly. Even through the fabric, she can feel how warm the other is, and when a head leans against her shoulder, she’s glad to feel Esme’s breath is back to a more even pace.

“Do you think Lev is okay?”

Abby blinks, the question catching her off guard, and she nods. “Yeah, of course,” she says and lets her hands sit at the small of Esme’s back, thumb absently rubbing circles. “You know him, he’s a stealthy little thing, they won’t even know he’s around.”

Hell, sometimes  _ she _ doesn’t even know he’s around. One of these days, she’s going to make good on her threat and put a bell around his neck. See him try and sneak up on her then.

“I hope so.”

Despite the worry in her tone and the threat of the situation, Abby can’t help but smile.

It’s hard, really, to put into words just how much it means to her that Esme and Lev have become so close. Oh, it hadn’t been easy — Lev is slow to trust others, something Abby can hardly fault him for, given everything he’s been through — but Esme is nothing if not stubborn and now, they’re thick as thieves.

They’re a family, actually.

She’s lost so many people, over the course of her life — some were simple tragedies, others were products of her own mistakes — and so this chance, to have a family again, people she cares about and who care about her in return, is something extremely precious to her. Something she’s willing to protect, no matter the cost.

She won’t lose them, not this time.

“Do you think he’ll be able to find us?”

The question draws her out of her own head and back to reality. Quickly, she plucks up those thoughts — and the emotions they bring — and tucks them into a box, one she pushes to the back of her mind, to be dealt with at a later time. Preferably one where they’re  _ not _ hiding from a bunch of fungus-infected bastards.

“Definitely,” she says, finally, and hopes the other doesn’t notice how thick her voice is, swallowing the last of the emotion. “He’ll probably give us hell, for letting ourselves get caught by surprise.”

Esme hums, and then, “If he does, I’m blaming you. It was your fault, after all.”

“Hey, can’t blame me entirely,” Abby argues, as a flush begins to creep up her neck at the memory of just  _ how _ they’d gotten into this predicament. “You were encouraging it.”

“Maybe, but you did kiss me first.”

“Yeah, well… you shouldn’t have looked so…” she falters, her own defense unraveling before her very eyes, and feels Esme shaking, this time with contained laughter. “Oh, shut up.”

Warm breath drifts over her neck and Abby shivers, the flush only intensifying as the woman in her arms raises up slightly to gain a bit of height.

“No, please,” Esme murmurs, her lips dancing along Abby’s throat, tantalizing featherlight in their caress. “Finish your sentence, how  _ did _ I look?”

Abby knows this game. Has played it more than enough times by now. Knows that it’s not really her words that Esme wants — no, it’s her reactions. It’s something the other loves to do, tease and toy with her, seeing how far she can push Abby until the blonde breaks and gives in.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not a game Abby frequently wins.

A tongue drags across her pulse and deep in her chest, a surge of heat blossoms to life. The hands at her sides slide down and then up, under the hem of her shirt and along her abdomen, soft fingertips sending little crackles of electricity racing through her nerves.

That heat spreads, drops lower, and before she loses herself to it, she pulls her arms back. Locks her hands around Esme’s elbows and forces her still yet again.

“I don’t think now’s the best time for this, Ems,” she hisses and hears Esme giggle, the sound causing the fire building within her to flare in response.

“Oh? And why not? We’re probably going to be here a while,” the other muses and then that mouth is back at Abby’s throat, leaving a trail of wet kisses that has her mind going blank. “Might as well have some fun, to pass the time.”

“We need to be quiet.”

“Don’t worry about that, I can be  _ very _ quiet, under the right circumstances. Don’t you remember?”

Before she can stop them, memories come racing to the surface to taunt her —  _ Esme pinned against a decaying house, body taut and back arched, lips parted. Shaking, but oh so silent _ .

She’s never going to let her forget that day, is she?

Distracted as she is by the trip down memory lane, Abby doesn’t realize her hold on Esme has gone slack until it’s too late. A hand, one that is most certainly not her own, deftly undoes the button and zipper on her pants and slides inside. Slips between her legs, quick fingers gliding over her center, and though the touch is soft, barely more than a whisper, it is enough to send a bolt of desire crashing through her and she only just manages to hold back the moan rising in her throat.

Her own hands fall away and she clenches them, tight enough to leave nail marks in her palms. Below, the touch grows more insistent, dragging up and down through the slit. The fabric that separates them is soaked now and Abby bites her bottom lip, her body coming alive all at once. 

She’s the one shaking now, albeit for very different reasons.

Esme presses closer, their bodies flush against one another, and those lips are at her ear now, breath hot against her skin. “Seems like you want to have fun too,” she teases, and Abby has no words to respond, can think of nothing to say that wouldn’t make her sound like a fool, and so as she typically does, she lets her actions speak for her.

Turns her head and when their mouths meet, the flame in her chest becomes a wildfire, flowing through her like molten liquid. A part of her knows she should put an end to this — there are still infected just on the other side of that thin little door, after all — but when Esme’s tongue slips past her lips and becomes entangled with her own, she knows she is lost.

The taste of strawberries fills her senses — she recalls Esme eating a few earlier, a snack picked from the little garden that sits in the back of their shared home — and this time, she makes no effort to contain the moan that escapes. Instead, she reaches for the other, lets her hands settle at her hips and pulls her even closer, angling herself to deepen the kiss.

Teeth tug at her lip and she groans, only for the sound to dissolve into a whine when Esme crosses that final barrier, two fingers dipping between Abby’s slick folds. Her hips jut forward, desperately seeking out the touch, and as a thumb circles her clit, she breaks the kiss, panting.

“Fuck, Ems,” is all she can manage, breath leaving her in short, shallow puffs.

Esme’s mouth, however, refuses to be idle. She leaves a path of kisses along Abby’s chin and jaw, then lower, over her neck, against her now racing pulse, and each one sends another sharp pang of heat straight to her core.

Fingers slide inside of her, sheathing themselves up to the knuckle, and curve upward, hitting that one spot, and Abby draws one of her hands back, slamming it over her mouth in an attempt to silence herself. Her body is practically vibrating with need and she hears Esme let out another soft hum. Recognizes the tone as one of satisfaction.

No doubt she’s feeling pretty damn proud of herself, right now, and yet try as she might, Abby can’t quite bring herself to be angry. So long as she keeps going, she can be a smug as she likes about it.

Abby lets her other hand move, sliding from Esme’s hip and between her legs only to feel slender fingers wrap around her wrist, holding her arm in place.

“Uh-uh,” Esme purrs and even in the dim light provided by the flashlight, Abby swears she can see laughter dancing in those blue eyes. “I’ve got uh, other plans,” she says, and there is something so utterly mischievous in her tone that sends a spike of fear — and anticipation — through her mind.

“What sort of plans?” She asks, unable to help herself.

Her only answer is to have those fingers pull away, leaving her empty and wanting, and when she makes a grunt of protest, Esme shushes her. Then, without warning, her pants and underwear are being tugged down and suddenly, a light goes off in her head.

“Wait,” she sputters, voice cracking in a way that would make her wince if she wasn’t so laser-focused, “I don’t think — ”

“Relax, babe, I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re doing too, and I’m just saying that now might not be the best place for it.”

Sadly, her protests fall on deaf ears, and despite their limited space, Esme manages to shimmy herself down onto her haunches and then onto her knees, hands clutching Abby’s thighs in an effort to keep herself balanced.

Distantly, in the back of her brain, a little voice shouts that this is a bad idea, but when soft lips press against the slick skin of her inner thighs, that voice becomes nothing more than white noise and Abby draws in a sharp breath.

Even knowing it’s coming does little to prepare her for the feel of Esme’s mouth on her cunt, for the way that tongue slides between her folds. She makes a noise in the back of her throat that is somewhere between a groan and a growl, head falling back against the wall, eyes closing.

Shortly after, the fingers return, and as they slip inside her, Abby once again covers her mouth, barely containing the gasp that rips through her.

There is no proper build-up, none of the usual foreplay — instead, Esme sets to work fucking her mercilessly, like it was something she was born to do. A third finger joins the fray and Abby uses her free hand to grip the other’s hair, her own fingers tangling through those brown locks like they’re a tether. Every inch of her is burning now and sweat beads along her skin, soaking her shirt and dripping down the back of her neck. 

“Ems, fuck,” she pants, dropping the hand at her mouth as fingers and tongue work in tandem to undo her, building up a rhythm that has her quivering. She braces her now free hand against the wall behind her, using it to keep herself upright. “Fuck, right there,” she says, and uses her grip on the other’s hair to pull her closer.

But all too quickly, the mouth is gone and the fingers go still and the whine that leaves her is downright pathetic. She dares to look down and finds Esme staring up at her, a playful smile on her lips.

“You’re not being very quiet,” she says and makes a show of licking her lips, the sight only driving her closer to the brink, leaving her gaping. Esme turns her head, drags her tongue along the crease where her leg meets her body, and Abby whines again, apparently the only sound she can make right now. 

“Please,” she begs, any attempt at remaining strong gone now, replaced only with the need for more. More, more,  _ more _ . “Esme, please, I need — ” the words fade out and she groans.

“What do you need?” The question is followed by more kisses along her thighs, so close yet still so far from where she wants them to be. “Tell me.”

Abby’s never been one for commands — something that caused no shortage of issues while working under Isaac — but there’s something about hearing  _ Esme _ give her an order that makes her want to jump to attention. It’s a little terrifying, but right now, she can’t be bothered to think too hard about it.

“You, I need you, please,” she answers, pleading, past caring how desperate she sounds. “Fuck me, please.”

“Mhm, good girl.”

She’s right back to work then, rhythm building, picking up pace, and when she swirls her tongue around her clit, the sound that leaves Abby is little more than a broken cry, hips bucking forward of their own volition. Esme crooks her fingers  _ just so _ and Abby can feel that familiar tightness coiling deep in her stomach. Squeezes her eyes shut and curses, nails scraping against the wall.

Fuck, but she’s good at this.

This type of pleasure is like nothing she’s ever felt before — in her limited amount of experience, that is — and it’s hard to describe it, the closest she ever gets is that it’s something uniquely  _ Esme _ , a type of bliss she’s never found anywhere else. She doesn’t understand it, not fully, but she is content to let it consume her, to give herself over to it completely.

It’s easy to do, when she’s already given the other her heart, a quiet exchange that happened without her really knowing. 

She’s so very close now, white haze crawling around the outskirts of her mind, inching her ever nearer to the edge, and that coil in her stomach clenches. It’s hard to catch her breath now, between the heat of the moment and the warmth filling the closet, and she wants to speak, to urge Esme on, to — 

Lips close around her clit, tongue pressing against it, and when those fingers curve upward she shatters. Stars explode behind her eyelids, mind blanketed in white, and she barely manages to cover her mouth again to muffle the cry that falls from her lips as she falls off that edge. 

Her body trembles, both from the orgasm itself and from her efforts to keep silent, and through it all, Esme fucks her — fingers and tongue never once slowing, relentless in their working. Through the haze of her climax, she hears another hum of approval from her girlfriend, and as the sound reverberates through her, she shudders, legs ready to give out.

Abby comes down from the high with a quiet whine, hands falling back to her side and body languid, sagging back against the wall. Her head spins, pleasure and heat making her dizzy, and as Esme clambers back to her feet, she pops one finger after another into her mouth, licking them clean, and the sight is nearly enough to send her tumbling back over the ledge. 

Esme knows it too, making sure to keep their eyes locked, a smirk on her lips as she finishes.

Before she can say anything, however, Esme leans forward and that mouth is on hers again. The kiss is lazy, slow and easy, and she can taste herself on the other’s tongue. Moans at the way it mingles with the lingering sweetness of strawberries and when it ends, she is breathless once more. 

“You taste good,” Esme says, as casually as one might mention the weather, and shoots her a wink. 

“ _ Esme _ .” Her tone is meant to be sharp, intimidating, but it lacks any sort of bite and her only response is a soft laugh.

“What? You do. Maybe you’d like another taste, to see that I’m right?”

She does, actually, but before she can even begin to reach for the other, a sudden knock fills the small space and she feels her heart stutter-stop in her chest. Next to her, Esme goes stock still, and both of their eyes swing toward the door.

When Esme speaks, her voice is low and frenzied. “Can those things knock?”

“I don’t think so.” Of course, after the Rat King, she’s willing to believe just about anything is possible when it comes to the infected.

A moment of silence and then, “ _ Abby? Esme? Are you in there? _ ”

The voice is muffled, but clearly recognizable as Lev, and Abby feels the tension leave her — only to have it come flooding right back in when the knob starts to turn and she realizes, in a panic, that she’s half-undressed.

Fortunately, Esme is quick, and her hand shoots out, grabbing the handle in a vice-like grip. “Just a minute!” She calls and then throws Abby a  _ hurry up _ look over her shoulder.

Which she thinks is rather unfair, since it’s Esme’s fault she’s even in this state of affairs, but there’s no time to argue such things. She scrambles to pull her clothes back on and tries, with questionable success, to set them right again. The zipper on her jeans catches and she fights with it for a second, though it feels like an eternity, until finally she gets it and whispers a quick go-ahead to Esme.

Her hand barely lifts off the handle before the door swings open and natural light pours into the closet, Abby’s eyes shutting immediately, temporarily blinded. Beside her, Esme curses, and it takes her a moment before she feels ready to open her eyes. When she does, spots dance in her vision and though it’s blurry, she can make out Lev’s face.

And the knowing, unimpressed look resting there.

Great, yet  _ another _ thing he’ll never let her live down.

If Esme notices the look on his face, however, she seems content to ignore it and once she’s adjusted to the light change, gives him a bright smile.

“Lev! I’m so glad you’re okay, we were so worried!”

“I’m sure you were.”

“How did you get past the horde?”

“They moved on,” he says, tone flat as he drags his gaze between the two of them, and sighs, “I think they’ve been gone a while, actually.”

Oh, well, of course they have.

“Really? Well, you know us, better safe than sorry!”

“Uh-huh.” 

Esme steps out of the closet first, lifts her arms and stretches, then sends Abby a look over her shoulder. “We were just being nice and quiet, right babe?”

The flush is back now in full force, slithering up her neck and she raises a hand out of reflex to rub at it, trying, in vain, to make it go away. Forces a smile and says, “Right, yeah, we were just uh, waiting it out.”

There is something in Lev’s expression that reminds her, a little, of the look her dad used to give her sometimes — the one where he clearly caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to and she’d lie about it anyway. It makes her itchy, gives her the feeling that she’s about to be punished somehow — like he’s going to send her to her room or tell her no dessert for a week.

It’s disconcerting that someone so young can look so adult-like.

“Right, sure,” Lev says, tone flat, and as he turns, she  _ swears _ she sees his eyes roll. He starts down the short hallway, back toward the front door, and gestures for them to follow. “The area is clear now, so we should leave while we can.”

“Coming!” 

The fact that she can manage to sound  _ that _ cheerful after all of that is a skill that still boggles Abby’s mind.

A hand slides into her own and tugs her along and she follows, falling into step beside the shorter woman. There’s a nudge at her side and she glances down, greeted by twinkling blue eyes.

“See? Told you it would help pass the time.”

Abby stammers, eyes daring to Lev and then back to Esme, cheeks burning now. “It was dangerous! What if we’d been caught… you know…” she trails off, swallows the rest of her words, and forces her gaze straight ahead.

Esme shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s caught us in a, uh, compromising position.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

All Esme does is laugh and Abby sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose, and closes her eyes. “Fine, laugh now, we’ll see if you’re laughing when we get home and you’re made to suffer the consequences of your actions.”

“Ooh, is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a promise.”

“Sounds kinky, I’m in.”

Ahead of them, Lev groans loudly and when Esme laughs again, this time, Abby can’t stop herself from joining her, embarrassment momentarily forgotten.

And hey, at least her hiding spot  _ did _ keep them safe, in the end. She’ll take that as a win, small as it may be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not happy with this, but I've been working on it for a week and a half so, I'm throwing my hands up and releasing it into the wild. The idea got into my head and I wanted to write it so, here we are. Apologies for any errors in here, I spent so long looking over it my eyes kind of glazed over.
> 
> Comments and kudos are very appreciated! And if you want, I'm elmshore over on tumblr, where I broadcast my love for Abby vocally.


End file.
